


Colored

by mushroomnoodles



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Rating May Change, Soul Bond, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomnoodles/pseuds/mushroomnoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world was a sad place until you found your soulmate; but how could it be otherwise, when everything was in grey-scale?</p><p>From a Tumblr prompt: you only see color once you meet your soulmate(s) (so you don’t know them until you see them), and it goes away when they die</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The world was a sad place until you found your soulmate; but how could it be otherwise, when everything was in grey-scale?

It was very easy to understand when someone had found theirs: they had an unmistakable light in their eyes, an enthusiasm that you just couldn’t have when all you knew was the monotony of black and white.

Patrick thought about all the people he knew, about all those people who had been lucky enough to unlock new colors.

He was sitting under a palm tree on a beach, guitar on his lap, eyes to the ocean. It wasn’t really summer yet, and that’s why there were so few people, there, with him. Not that he minded.

His friend Brendon, who had found his soulmate not so long before, had talked to him about colors. He told him that blue looked like cold, red looked like heat, and apparently it was the color of fire. Patrick didn’t really get what it meant, but he knew that _that_ world had to look way more complete - that emotions and moods and physical states had to seem more interwined, more connected… all parts of the same thing, life, while now, for him, every state of mind was nothing but itself, dull and monotonous; shallow.

He plucked the strings of his instrument, a note came out, and Patrick played some more until he found himself playing a song he had written some days before.

At least, music broke up the monotony of a world so faded; but Patrick couldn’t help but wonder what the color of the sea and the color of the sand looked like… and what the eyes of his soulmate looked like, too.  

Sure enough, he couldn’t even imagine it; everything he could have thought of, couldn’t measure up to nature, to what it was still hiding from him.

He could do nothing but wait; actually, why was he so impatient? He was still so young…

A blow from a ball – well thank you beach volleyball players - interrupted his thoughts and hit him right in the head. His instinctive reaction was to hold his guitar close, as to protect it, while his eyes closed shut for the thump and fright.  

“Hey!” he said, massaging on the stricken spot on his head, after he had made sure his guitar was safe. His sight was still blurry.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, dude!” Patrick could hear a male voice approaching him. He couldn’t see the guy though, because his eyes were still fixated on the sand, waiting for his brain to be able to work again.

“Hey, did that hurt? Are you okay or…” the boy, now close to him, lowered and put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. In that moment, he stopped talking.

Patrick immediately forgot about the blow, and raised his face to meet a pair of eyes that were neither black nor white. The skin of the boy before him wasn’t greyish like the one of every single human being he’d ever seen until then, and he could perfectly tell where his lips ended and his complexion started. The color of his bangs was the only one he recognized: black, a shiny black.

The eyes only few inches from his face were open wide, incredulous, and they were looking at him, _studying_ him, with as much curiosity.

It was too much too soon. Patrick’s eyesight wasn’t used to so many shades and tones. He closed his eyes for several seconds to keep his mind from exploding; the boy in front of him, on the other hand, tightened his hand on Patrick’s shoulder and laughed out of joy.

Patrick couldn’t help but smile himself.

“I can’t believe it,” the black-haired boy said, “I’m Pete. Pete Wentz.”

“Patrick Stump,” he answered. “And it could be because you’re in color, but you’re handsome.”  

Pete’s eyes lightened up. “You’re not bad yourself. Your eyes are…” the boy looked around, as if he was searching for something. “Look. They’re that color, more or less,” he pointed at the ocean behind him.

When Pete moved, Patrick could admire it better. It was spectacular and it looked even more immense now it wasn’t grey anymore. But it wasn’t the right time to be mesmerized by the beauty of nature.

“Blue,” Patrick rectified when he shifted his gaze to Pete again, “my mother always told me they’re blue, but they change with light.”

Patrick put his guitar aside, trying to get on his feet, but Pete blocked him, hugging him rather enthusiastically, stilling him before he could move.

Patrick was too happy to even care.    

“Hey, Pete, where’s our bal – oh my god,” two guys appeared out of nowhere, at least it seemed to Patrick – and they were _colored_ too – and then froze, staring at the two soulmates.

“Is he…” one of them stammered, and Pete moved away from Patrick, but kept his hands on him. Pete flaunted a bright – also marvelous, if you asked Patrick – smile to the two guys.

“He is. Joe, Andy, this is my soulmate. Isn’t he beautiful?”

Then Pete turned to Patrick and he blushed, “…and Patrick, these are my friends Joe and Andy.”

Patrick was about to say something, but Pete decided it was time for them to kiss, _to share their first kiss_ , and it felt like the most complete moment in Patrick’s life.

Something like a force field created all around them, and it seemed powerful enough to lift them up; Patrick felt invincible and stable and _good_ like never before. These were all feelings people had been telling him about, ones that were poeticized all the time.

Now he knew it wasn’t only poetry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be other parts to it. Thoughts are always appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short. I swear there'll be more action in the next chapters haha

Patrick and Pete watched their first – _true_ – sunset together. They were walking by the sea, hand in hand, synchronized steps. They didn’t talk much, even though they had so many things they wanted to say. They just looked around, with their new eyes, and any time their gaze lingered a little on the other, their chest felt like exploding.

When Patrick realized the color of the sky was changing, he motioned Pete to stop.

“Look,” he said, nose turned up. “The sky now looks… it looks _warmer_ than before, when the sun was still high.”

Pete glanced at the sky, at the sea, and at the sun flakes reflecting on the water. Then his gaze flew onto Patrick, and he became aware of the fact that the tone of his skin had changed, too, exposed to the sunset lights.  

“ _Everything_ I see is gorgeous,” said then Pete, still staring at Patrick; his cheeks flushed when he realized Pete was talking about him.

How strange it was, to suddenly find yourself next to the only person who could color your world and your soul; to feel at peace and happy and complete with someone you’d just met.  

“We should learn the colors names,” Patrick said, but Pete didn’t seem to be in a hurry: he clenched his arms tight around him, and he used all his strength to try and lift him up. He even succeeded, more or less, making the most of the few centimeters he had on him. Patrick let out a small yell out of surprise, but then it faded out and turned into a laugh.  

“Pete! Pete, please, put me down, before…”

Pete lost his balance and fell onto the sand; Patrick fell down on top of him, his own face only few centimeters from his. They burst out laughing; then Patrick got rid of the distance between the two of them and kissed Pete’s mouth, warm and delicious, with zero inhibitions and a thousand wishes.

He felt magnetic attraction connect them and electric energy enforce them; it appeared to him that Pete’s soul was being _glued_ to his own.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, shit,” there was still a hint of disbelief in Pete’s voice, but he never seemed to stop smiling and, before those eyes so bright, Patrick’s heart filled up with love.

And his mind started to record _things_.  

“I’m sure Joe and Andy are gone already… May I offer a lift home?”

Patrick pretended to think about it, fingers on his chin and eyes to the sky, “Mmh… sure, why not.”

They got on their feet and Pete’s hand searched for Patrick’s immediately. The beach was desert now, and the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon.

“Just let me take my guitar,” Patrick added, leaving his soulmate’s hand and running towards his instrument, forsaken under the palm tree where he’d met Pete.

Once he picked it up, Pete got to him; they looked at each other’s eyes tenderly for an instant, for one last time, before Pete motioned him to follow him into the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Grey. It was the color of Pete’s car. Patrick could recognize it.

After placing the guitar carefully in the backseat, he got on the car and sat next to Pete. He liked the smell of it, it was almost familiar, even though Patrick was sure he’d never smelt it before.

“So, Patrick… where do you live?” Pete asked.

Patrick gave him all the information he needed, and then silence fell down on them. Not that Patrick didn’t feel like talking; he was just trying to relax, because, sure enough, acquiring full capacity of one of the senses that had always worked differently could be exhausting. He had headache, too, but he didn’t blame it on the colors only.

In fact, he could perceive, in his mind, thoughts and information he didn’t think he’d ever formulated or acquired in his life. He saw strange black and white images, and the point of view wasn’t his; like he had someone else’s memories.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out who it was.

“Pete,” he asked after reflecting attentively, “do you play bass?”

Pete averted his gaze from the road for less than a second to look at Patrick. He frowned.

“Yeah. How did you…?”

“I don’t know. I guessed.”

Pete smiled and focused on his driving again.

“You’re either a great observer and noticed the calluses on my hands, or I just look like the typical bassist.”

Pete parked under Patrick’s house before the boy could rebut; he decided he would go back to this subject another time.

“Wanna come in? I don’t mean like – to do _things_ , but -”

Pete jumped out of the car in half a second.

“That’s all I was waiting for, gorgeous,” Patrick was convinced that a smile so joyful and sincere and vain had to be worth at least a million dollars. Anyway, _something_ told him that it had been such an arduous conquest for Pete.

Patrick’s house wasn’t big; he lived on his own, after all, and being a nineteen year old he didn’t need much. His life was always the same routine: he woke up, showered, ate, got bored, ate, hung out with friends or got bored some more, got to work, went to bed. During weekends he would go for a walk, relax on the beach or write music; these were all distractions, but he actually felt rather lonely and unsuccessful deep in his heart.

But now there was Pete with him; finally, there was someone who would love him forever simply because he was meant to, and yes, now things _would_ change.

Patrick let his soulmate in, trying to be polite and using all the good manners he used to be taught when he was younger: he let him in first, apologized the house was so messy, but Pete wasn’t really paying attention to all these ceremonies. As soon as the door closed behind them, while Patrick was babbling something about where the bathroom was, Pete held Patrick’s hand and he shut up. They were standing, facing each other, now both hands joint together next to their hips. Pete was staring at Patrick like he was the most beautiful thing and Patrick blushed, eyes fixated on the other’s, of a color so strange that he still couldn’t name.  

He wasn’t just handsome; he was hot as hell.

Patrick’s blushing increased.

Pete noticed and laughed softly. Then, he gave him a small peck on the lips, and Patrick definitely _perceived_ Pete’s love and enthusiasm for him.

He stayed for dinner too; the astonishment of the novelty was fading away by now, and it was being replaced by utter curiosity towards one another. They talked a lot while enjoying their pizza; Patrick felt so comfortable, and it didn’t happen often.

He learned that Pete worked as a shop assistant in a music store and he dreamt about becoming a writer. When Patrick told him about what he did for a living, so selling songs he wrote to some local bands and actually playing in a club regularly, Pete asked him if he sang.

“Well, no, I don’t. I can play a lot of instruments, but I don’t sing. I hum sometimes under the shower, if ever.”  

Pete looked him in the face carefully, while chewing his pizza.

“Weird. _Something_ told me you were a singer, and every presentiment I’ve had about you turned out to be true.”

Patrick just couldn’t help it and blushed _once again_.

“Oh yeah? What, for example?”

Pete bit his lip, as if it helped him concentrate, “Mmh. You being a musical person.”

“Well, uh, it wasn’t that hard to get. I was playing guitar when we met.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Not a simple artist. You’re a musical person, you’re _destined_ to make music; it’s supposed to be the same fate – or necessity, or whatever you call it – that decides your soulmate for you, to infuse music in your body when you’re born. The bond between you and me and your relationship with notes are made of the same things. You heard nothing ‘bout it?”

Patrick arched his eyebrows as he figured out he knew way less than he thought about this matter. After all, no one ever talked much about it; Metaphysics was a bit like Sexual Education, teachers dealt with it summarily, because they thought students would just learn whatever they needed to know as life went by.

“I knew nothing about it,” Patrick confessed. “Are there any other kinds of people?”

“Yeah, I guess. There are artistic people, who dedicate to visual arts, like painting and sculpturing. There are logical people. Poetic people. And then, there are normal people, the most common.

You’re the first musical person I met.”

“But how can you be so sure I am?”

Pete kept quiet for several seconds, looking at nothing. He then shifted his gaze to Patrick.

“I don’t know. I feel it.”

“Okay,” Patrick said, not really satisfied with the answer he got, but he somewhat knew what Pete meant.

When they had finished eating, their manners and gestures went back to be gentle and loving. Pete helped Patrick clear the table; they watched a little TV while cuddling on the couch, and they would have been kissing and touching even more if Discovery Channel hadn’t been so colorful and hypnotizing.

After some jokes and caresses, Patrick felt so good and happy that he thought about asking Pete to stay for the night; then he decided against it, as it was such an important step to take and a little too forward.

They exchanged their numbers when Pete was on the threshold, ready to give Patrick his goodnight kiss. Stars shone bright in the sky behind Pete’s form, a perfect frame for the most beautiful boy in the world. Patrick could have stared at him for hours, and knowing he was actually going to be next to him forever gave him goosebumps.

The kiss they shared now was the most intense of the day (and, accordingly, of their relationship until then). Their tongues met in a sweet caress made up of light touches, of the will to know, explore, and remind the other of how needy they were.

When he went away, Pete told Patrick he wouldn’t have to wait much for their next date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was badly written I'm sorry. I really wanted to update before I left for the Expo in Milan!  
> Thoughts and corrections are always appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so fluffly I'm

“ _Patrick!_ Patrick, Patrick, Patrick. Wake up!”

Patrick rubbed his eyes and changed his position between the sheets, resting on his side. “Come on,” Pete approached his crouched form, and tenderly shook his shoulder. “We need to learn colors.”

A gasp escaped Patrick’s throat, in protest, but then realization hit him and his eyes went open-wide. _How did Pete get in?_

“Pete?” his voice was rough and deep, “How the hell – ”

“I saw where you kept your keys last night,” he cut him off, “and don’t freak out. I’m not gonna break in and no burglary is gonna happen, you know.”

The black-haired boy smiled and sat down on Patrick’s bed. The other, still laying on his mattress, reached out and grabbed his glasses on the bedside table. He was still bewildered, but at least Pete was in high definition now.

“You’re adorable with your hair all messy,” Pete brought a hand on the boy’s head to ruffle a little more, “and your hurt puppy little face.”

“I don’t look like a hurt puppy,” Patrick rebut, his manliness offended, and he got up to sit next to Pete. They were so close their legs touched; Pete noticed it right away, and put his hand on Patrick’s thigh. It was such an intimate gesture it made Patrick blush, but he didn’t push it away.

“Oh, okay. I guess you’re a sexy fierce beast then…” Pete blinked at him and then smiled at his awkwardness: Patrick had lowered his gaze, embarrassed as hell, and he was blushing even more. “Don’t worry,” he added. “We don’t need to rush. I mean, we have all life to find out.”

Pete put two fingers under Patrick’s chin and lifted his face up, until their eyes were on the same level. He then gave him a kiss, and it was gentle, romantic at first, but soon became hungry and intense. Patrick had never enough of that mouth so warm and soft and inviting.

He decided he wanted to try something new so he captured Pete’s bottom lip in his teeth.

Pete gasped in the kiss, surprised by the boy’s initiative. He started to think he really could turn out to be a sexy beast. He smiled to himself at the thought, and then he was kissing him back again, moving his hand up on Patrick’s thigh. Again, the boy didn’t react.

The atmosphere got hotter and hotter; from Patrick’s pajama pants _something_ was now clearly visible. His hands on Pete’s chest, his fingers in the collar of his t-shirt, then down, tugging at the hem, like he wanted to tear up the shirt.

The two of them interrupted their every move at the same time: they removed their hands from the other’s body and glanced down at the floor, both embarrassed. Patrick didn’t want to rush things and Pete _perceived_ it, even though his soulmate’s body was telling him a completely different story.

“You wanna wait, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Me too. Don’t worry.”

Pete placed a soft kiss on Patrick’s forehead, and he smiled. He wanted (and he knew he could) trust Pete; in his chest a reassuring feeling warmed his heart up.

“So,” Patrick resumed, “what did you want to do?”

“I wanted to learn colors,” Pete searched in his shoulder bag for few seconds and pulled out a book. Its cover simply read _For newly found soulmates_. Patrick looked at it attentively while it was still in Pete’s hands, the word ‘soulmates’ still had a strange – and pleasing – effect on him. Then Pete gave it to him, and Patrick opened the first page.

“I haven’t browsed through it yet,” Pete was now sitting behind him, Patrick between his legs. Pete put his chin on the younger boy’s shoulder before whispering to his ear, “I wanted to do it with you.”

Patrick felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind; two hands stroked his belly, his sides and ran along his arms. They reached Patrick’s hands on his lap, which were holding the book, and their fingers intertwined.

Pete’s breath on his neck made him feel home more than his bedroom walls.

They leafed through the book together. After skipping the introduction pages, they found the chapter about colors: on every page a large colored rectangle was printed, and the name of the color was at the bottom of the page. There were smaller squares on the next page, with possible shades and variants of the main color and their names.

“Green,” Pete said, when Patrick opened the first page of the chapter. “Like grass. Trees.”

Patrick nodded, recording the information in his head. He then turned the page and said: “Red.”

“The color of your skin whenever I tell you you’re adorable,” Pete laughed when Patrick tried to free himself from Pete’s grip to beat on his bicep, pretending to feel outraged. Obviously, Pete didn’t let him go and tightened his arms around him even more.

“Or… tomatoes. Tomatoes are red. Pizza is red, too.”

Patrick chuckled. “Okay. Red is the color of pizza.”

They turned the page one more time.

“Blue,” Patrick said.

“I really like this one. Your eyes and the sea. And the sky, too, right?”

“Yeah,” Patrick got to the next page fast. “Look. This looks like the color of your eyes. Brown.”

He turned around and found himself a few centimeters from Pete’s face; he studied his irises carefully, and noticed that the boy’s muscles were relaxing as he stared back at him, losing himself in Patrick’s blue. Patrick didn’t say anything about it; after all, he was drowning in Pete’s eyes, too.

Patrick came back to reality abruptly, shook his head a little, and went back to focusing on the book. Pete was now holding his hips.

“Maybe a shade lighter,” Patrick added. “Hazel brown, for example. What do you think?”

“If you want my eyes to be hazel brown, they’ll be hazel brown,” and he placed a kiss on the boy’s sharp cheekbone.

They kept studying colors for a while, oblivious of time passing by; between stolen kisses and sweet laughters, Patrick was now completely swallowed in Pete’s lap, in his arms. He certainly was very comfortable.

Eventually, Pete freed him from his grip and collapsed on the bed; he said he was tired and _he didn’t think there were so many colors, how do people remember them all?_

He made grabby hands at Patrick and Patrick lied down next to him, curling up against his body.

“All right,” the younger boy said, “enough for today.”


	5. Chapter 5

Three months had passed since they first met, but it seemed to Patrick that he’d been living that life forever. That life with Pete. Life in color. Pete’s colors.

Pete showed up to Patrick’s house every day, he knew him well by now and he knew when he would find him home; they hung out often, even if it was just to breathe air together. They held hands, and every new touch opened new windows to the world to Patrick. He was invincible and strong. With Pete, nothing seemed too big. He thought that nothing could ever go wrong.

Their bond grew more and more intense and it was just like they had always been part of each other’s life. They would soon get to know every hole and every crease in each other’s soul, and even though it was a regular thing, a natural thing that happened to all the soulmates of the universe, Patrick had been taken by surprise.

The first signs of the creation of their bond had appeared the day they first met. Patrick started to _feel things_ from Pete; they weren’t words, they weren’t thoughts, it was all information and sometimes images. Black and white, blurry images, seen through Pete’s eyes. Remnants of his memories.

At first, Patrick saw very little. There were his hands, that weren’t his but were Pete’s, dark grey fingers plucking bass strings. Then the image faded away. It was Pete playing bass.

_“Pete, do you play bass?”_

_“Yeah. How did you…?”_

_“I don’t know. I guessed.”_

_“You’re either a great observer and noticed the calluses on my hands, or I just look like the typical bassist.”_

And there was nothing weird or worrying or dangerous in these casual, little findings, in these faded, dull memories; Patrick hardly ever thought about them, him being so overwhelmed by the love he felt for Pete and that Pete felt back. He made him so happy. How could he ever bring him sadness? How could they ruin this magic?

Weeks went by and Pete kept his sincere, enthusiastic smile; when he talked to Patrick, there was not a single word that didn’t give away the fact that Patrick’s was the best thing ever happened in Pete’s life. Patrick believed him; he believed him whenever he said ‘I love you,’ whenever he said ‘you’re mine and I’ll never let anything bad happen to you,’ because it was nice to just let go and let a prospect like that lull him, it was amazing to believe that life didn’t have anything for them but everlasting joy.

Weeks went by and even though Pete kept his appearance, his personified-perfection-façade, Patrick could see more and more inside of him.

***

They were in the park, sitting on a bench, fingers intertwined and tongues joint, and when Pete broke the kiss, Patrick could feel his breath on his own lips. Pete whispered to him that the first blue he’d ever seen, the one in Patrick’s eyes, was more valuable than the white of stars and the yellow of gold and the pink of quartz.

In that moment, it happened. Patrick jumped.

Patrick’s mind was back in black and white, a vision took over every cognitive capability and Patrick saw white pills, a blood stained sink and mirror, and a scale.

The boy freed himself from Pete’s grip and got up, looking at his soulmate with eyes popping out and panting.

“What was that?” Patrick asked, index finger pointed to Pete’s head and heart trapped in his own throat. The vision had disappeared, but terror hadn’t.

Pete looked scared, his eyes were moving around nervously, searching for something but then they stabilized on Patrick standing in front of him.

“Patrick… are you okay?” Pete slowly reached out a hand to him.

Patrick kept still for several seconds. When the tension between them started to feel unbearable to the both of them, Patrick sighed and relaxed every muscle of his body.

“I don’t know I saw… something,” Patrick said, gazing at the floor and taking Pete’s hand, and Pete held it tight. Patrick cuddled up next to Pete again, basically turning into a small ball against his body. He hid his face between his neck and chest, and heard nothing but the boy’s heartbeat and birds tweeting for a while – maybe minutes or maybe hours, Patrick didn’t care, he only wanted to feel protected in Pete’s arms.

“Hey, Love?” Pete removed Patrick’s hat from his head and started to gently stroke his hair, “It’s getting late, I’ll take you home. Did you fall asleep?”

“Mmh. Almost,” Patrick moved reluctantly and sat back on the bench, “Hat. Gimme.”

Pete put it back on his head after giving him a tender kiss on the forehead.

***

Usually, to Pete, _I’ll take you home_ meant _let’s stay at your house together_ and that evening was no exception. Not that Patrick minded, anyways.

Everything went well until Patrick decided he wanted to take a shower; Pete was downstairs, watching TV in the living room. Patrick was alone with his thoughts under pelting water.

He thought about the vision. He thought about the blood and the pills.

For a second, he considered that Pete could be a killer, but then shook his head to dispel that stupid idea from his mind almost as soon as it showed up. It wasn’t possible.

Whatever it was, Patrick would like to know _when_ it happened. If it was a recent memory. It was in black and white, so it had to date back to before they met; but was it really important?

What was it, something Pete had done, or something he had undergone? Was that his blood? Were those his pills?

The way water was massaging Patrick’s shoulders kept him calm. He managed to convince himself that it was _past_. That it wouldn’t came back. That now Pete was happy and safe.

However, he decided he would talk to Pete about it. Eventually.

***

When he went downstairs, he stole a brief kiss to his soulmate and headed straight to the kitchen to cook dinner for the both of them.

Pete followed him and grasped his hips while he was in front of the cookers. He put his head on Patrick’s shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Soup,” Patrick answered, focused on the pots and pans before him. “Take a seat and try not to distract me, so you can have an unburnt meal?”

“Okay,” Pete patted his ass and Patrick blushed in a way that wasn’t even normal. He hoped Pete hadn’t noticed.

During their dinner, they chatted light-heartedly about work and friends. They talked about the new song Patrick had written. About their plans for the next day (Pete was working in the morning, Patrick was playing in the evening). Patrick realized that Pete had never attended one of his shows at the club… and decided to do something about it.

“If you want… you can come see me play tomorrow. If you want,” Patrick, mildly embarrassed, didn’t lock eyes with Pete. Pete smiled softly when he noticed.

“Of course I do! You have no idea how much I wanted you to invite me. I didn’t want to show up with no forewarning. I thought you might feel uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, thank you for waiting,” now Patrick _was_ looking into Pete’s eyes and, oh. He became stupid every single time he got lost in them.

It was Pete’s turn to lower his gaze, now. “Listen. About what happened earlier…”

Patrick abruptly returned to his senses. Oh no.

“…At the park. What scared you, Patrick?”

Patrick fixated his eyes on his hands on his lap, under the table, playing with the rips of his jeans.

“I saw something… but it was in my head.”

Pete’s body froze completely: he closed his hands into fists, straightened his back, clenched his jaw. “Was it me?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Pete’s eyes opened wide, a look of terror and disbelief on his features.

He got to his feet, “I… I have to go. Gotta go.”

Patrick stayed there, helpless, inert as he watched Pete collect his things and get out of his door, saying nothing. No goodbyes. No kisses.

Pete was gone and Patrick didn’t know where he went wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Corrections? Should I stop writing for my own good?


	6. Chapter 6

Patrick didn’t sleep that night. Not much, anyway.

He tossed and turned between the sheets but no position ever felt comfortable enough.

Pete wasn’t there with him. He wasn’t holding him tight in his arms and Patrick _couldn’t_ feel comfortable.

His brain kept on torturing him, it was racing; Pete was everywhere in his thoughts but nowhere to be found. Cold and silence filled the room, his head was tired and heavy; everything reminded him of his soulmate’s absence. Abandonment, loneliness; was it really all that fate had in store for him?

He kept on the ball for hours, trying to pick up something, anything from the bond, a sign, a word; a reassurance, an explanation, an apology, a goodbye. He wanted Pete to tell him he was okay. He wanted him to tell him everything was going to be all right.

But it was crystal clear that it wasn’t true.

And not even a vision, a memory came from the bond.

Patrick cursed every idea, every dream, every thought that, in the last few months, had led him to believe that Pete loved him. He cursed himself for believing it, for giving in to the enchanting yet deceiving prospect that fairy-tales existed for him as well.

He blamed himself. He couldn’t help it.

It was _obvious_ that Pete wasn’t willing to date him, to be with him. Pete was handsome, clever, outgoing; and Patrick was, well. Patrick.

Patrick couldn’t blame him. How could a kid like him satisfy his needs, give him what he needed?

Nature could assign you a soulmate, but it couldn’t force you to stick with them forever. Pete didn’t choose Patrick, _Patrick was chosen for him_. And Pete deserved so much better.

No ‘I love you’ was ever true. No kiss and no touch and no glance. Every cuddle, every gestures in which love had reflected, _everything_ had been an illusion and Patrick was angry at the universe. Pete had left him, had run away and he didn’t even tell him why. He had taken away from Patrick all the love and the peace of mind he’d brought him when he came along, leaving Patrick with nothing but colors. Meaningless colors.

This awareness tore the poor boy’s heart apart every time it hit him.

Patrick felt like crying, but he wouldn’t let himself.

However, it’s a known fact that, at night, all of our fears intensify, our hearts stiffen and all of our demons come to life. No wonder nighttime is nightmare time.

***

Patrick fell asleep at six in the morning and, when he woke up, his heart felt a little lighter. The sense of abandonment and loneliness had ceased weighing on his chest, and all he was thinking about was tonight’s performance with his band. He was going to perform his new song at the pub, and it was going to be a completely new thing: in fact, for the first time ever, Patrick was going to be the lead vocalist.

Once, Pete’d asked him if he sang. Patrick had said no, because, actually, he never did sing in public… He used to think it just wasn’t for him. His voice wasn’t even that interesting anyway.

After Pete’s comment, though, he’d thought about it and decided to give it a try. Maybe – just maybe – Pete had read in his fate through the bond… and maybe Patrick could be a singer for real.

Anyways, Patrick was curious now, and he _also_ wanted to surprise Pete, to see the look on his face as he watched him perform.

Pete. Oh.

Patrick became sad for a moment, then shook his head and left the bed he was still laying in.

The bond was still quiet, but Patrick wanted to be optimist and to shake off of himself all the melancholy from last night. Pete couldn’t have _faked_ it all that time. Now, with his mind clear and rested, Patrick realized last night was stupid, all those thoughts of his had been nothing but non-sense fed by paranoia. It just wasn’t realistic. Pete would come back. Patrick knew.

***

The lights of the pub were dim; costumers started to claim tables and there was almost no contrast between their dark silhouettes and the colorful walls of the room. Patrick wondered if he had ever noticed the silhouettes before, when he didn’t know colors and it was almost impossible to distinguish similar shades and tones.

From the stage, Patrick could only see the faces in the first rows; couples, possibly soulmates, exchanged tender words full of affection, the boldest ones touched each other and kissed each other while waiting for the waiters to take their orders.

The band was ready, Patrick’s voice had warmed up and the music started. Patrick opened his mouth and the first words of his new song came out; he had to admit the outcome was rather satisfying. At the end of the track, the crowd cheered and applauded enthusiastically; Patrick felt his heart fill up.

His voice wasn’t that bad either; it sounded warm, and it came out way more naturally than it had during rehearsals. He tried to extemporize, to customize his songs even further, adding moans and noises. He smiled when he reached an high note easily.

Yeah, okay. He liked to sing. He should have started earlier.

He had to thank Pete for this; he had prompted it to him. He’d been the one to tell him he was a musical person.

 _Pete_.

The set went on, the music was loud and the crowd was loving it; any time lights illuminated the room, Patrick watched the crowd, _searched_ for his soulmate’s face among all those people. Then the lights would go dim again and Patrick would close his eyes, getting lost in his voice and in the sound of his guitar.

When it was over, Patrick thanked the audience and the band. He left the stage quickly, put his equipment in the small backstage area and came back to the room, looking desperately for Pete. All the lights were turned on now. Patrick made his way through the crowd with difficulty, got jostled repeatedly and his feet got stepped on; his eyes looked around in every direction nervously. They lingered on every black haired guy…

No one of them was Pete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I started university so now updates will be less frequent... anyway I hope you still like this!


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